To Jung, life consists of “a complex of inexorable opposites”: day and night, birth and death, happiness and misery, good and evil, introversion (inner-directedness) and extraversion (outer-directedness), con- sciousness and unconsciousness, thinking and feeling, love and hate, and so forth. Such contradictory ideas, emotions, and instincts exist simultaneously within the psyche, producing a tension that creates psychic energy and enables life to exist. “There is no energy unless there is a tension of opposites. … Life is born only of the spark of opposites” (Jung, 1917/1972d, pp. 53–54; see also Jung, 1964/1968, p. 75; 1928/1972e, p. 142).
When any extreme is primarily conscious, the unconscious compensates by emphasizing the other extreme. The psyche is for the most part a closed system, so libido withdrawn from one aspect of personality normally reappears somewhere else (the principle of equivalence). The psyche is also a self-regulating sys- tem wherein libido fl ows from a more intense to a less intense component, just as heat fl ows from a warmer to a colder body (the principle of entropy). Sooner or later, therefore, any overvalued component will yield psychic energy to its undervalued counterpart. Thus the (unconscious) opposite is likely to emerge in the course of time, a tendency Jung refers to as enantiodromia. For example, intense love may eventually give way to profound hate, or a rational and skeptical scientist may turn to mysticism and the occult. Values are particularly likely to undergo radical changes as we grow from the morning of youth to the afternoon of middle age, with religious needs gaining ascendance while material and sexual urges become less impor- tant (Jung, 1917/1972d, pp. 74–75; see also Jung, 1928/1969a, pp. 18, 25; 1934/1974c, p. 101).
The principle of opposites and enantiodromia imply that no personality is ever truly one-sided. An individual who appears to be cold and lacking in sentiment will have warm and emotional characteristics, though these compensating tendencies may be unconscious and unobservable. “Extremes always arouse
suspicion of their opposite” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 21). Furthermore, any extreme (introversion, extraver- sion, emotionality, rationality, or whatever) is harmful because it prevents the contradictory tendency from gaining satisfactory expression. The opposites must then waste libido in confl ict with each other, as when the apparently unfeeling individual uses up psychic energy in a misguided attempt to suppress innate emotional instincts and repeal the principle of entropy.
In a mature and well-adjusted personality, the various opposites are united through some middle path. This concept is common in Eastern philosophies, as with the Taoist symbols of Yin and Yang; but it is a diffi cult one for our Western culture, which has never even devised a name for it. Jung proposes the term transcendent function for the process that unites the various opposing aspects of personality, particularly consciousness and unconsciousness, into a coherent middle ground. The transcendent func- tion also provides us with guidelines for personal development that enable us to become our true selves— guidelines that cannot be found in the external world or opinions of other people. (See Jung, 1916/1971e, pp. 298, 300; 1921/1976, p. 449; 1928/1972e, p. 205.)
Teleology
Whereas Freud stressed the childhood determinants of personality (causality), Jung argues that behavior must also be understood in terms of its purpose or goal (teleology). Personality is shaped by our past and by our intentions and plans for the future:
A man is only half understood when we know how everything in him came into being. … Life does not have only a yesterday, nor is it explained by reducing today to yesterday. Life has also a tomorrow, and today is understood only when we can add to our knowledge of what was yesterday the beginnings of tomorrow. (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 46. See also Jung, 1921/1976, p. 431.)
Jung also rejects Freud’s contention that psychic events can be reduced to physiological causes. Instincts have an organic aspect, but mental life follows “a specifi c law of its own which cannot be deduced from the known physical laws of nature” (Jung, 1947/1969b, p. 91; see also p. 90).
The Unconscious
Jung readily accepts the existence of parapraxes, even contributing some specimens to Freud’s collection. (See Freud, 1901/1965c, p. 84; Jung, 1927/1971b, p. 28; 1916/1971e, p. 276; 1917/1972d, p. 115; 1928/1972e, pp. 177, 180.) In marked contrast to Freud, however, Jung concludes that the unconscious is relatively autonomous and speaks to us of its own accord. The messages and wishes that emanate from the uncon- scious are events that happen to us, and are not caused by any actions of our own.
Some people hear their unconscious as a voice within themselves and actually carry on a conversa- tion with it, “as if a dialogue were taking place between two human beings with equal rights, each of whom gives the other credit for a valid argument.” But most of us do not allow this invisible partner of ours to make itself heard, for “we are so in the habit of identifying ourselves with the thoughts that come to us that we invariably assume we have made them” (Jung, 1916/1971e, p. 297; 1928/1972e, p. 201).
Jung does agree with Freud about the importance of bringing unconscious material to conscious- ness, and about our reluctance to experience the dark side of our personality. So long as the unconscious strongly infl uences our behavior, we are not the masters of our own personality. Yet we turn away in fear from investigating our shadow-side, for it consists not just of minor weaknesses but of a “positively demonic dynamism” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 30; see also Jung, 1964/1968, p. 72; 1917/1972d, p. 26).
Unlike Freud, however, Jung does not regard the unconscious as a purely demoniacal monster. The unconscious includes wellsprings of creativity and sources of guidance that can suggest solutions when the conscious mind becomes hopelessly bogged down. “[The unconscious] has at its disposal … all those
things which have been forgotten or over-looked, as well as the wisdom and experience of uncounted cen- turies” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 116; see also Jung, 1931/1933b, pp. 61–62; Jung, 1934/1974c, p. 100).
A substantial part of the unconscious is collective, and contains predispositions and guidelines inher- ited from past generations. Only a smaller part results from repressions and other personal experiences unique to the individual.
THE STRUCTURE OF PERSONALITY
Jung’s model of the psyche is considerably more chaotic than Freud’s. Complexes originating in the uncon- scious can gravitate to consciousness and exert control over the personality for purposes of their own, and unconscious components may fuse together rather than remaining separate and distinct.
Consciousness
Consciousness in psychoanalytic theory is often depicted as the tip of a huge iceberg, with the uncon- scious represented by the vast portion below the water. Similarly, consciousness in analytical psychology resembles a small island rising from the midst of a vast sea (Jung, 1928/1969d, p. 41).
The Ego.
The ego is a complex of conscious ideas that constitutes the center of awareness. It includes feelings of continuity and identity, and begins to develop at about the fourth year of life. Jung conceives of the ego as a relatively weak entity that is often at the mercy of more powerful forces, tossed like a shuttlecock between the demands of reality and those of the unconscious. However, it can consign threatening material to the (personal) unconscious by means of repression. (See Jung, 1951; 1928/1972e, p. 196; 1921/1976, p. 425; Jung, cited by Evans, 1976, pp. 60–61.)The Persona.
We usually cannot afford to confront the world with our true feelings. Instead, we must fashion an outward appearance that will satisfy the demands of society. This protective façade is a complex of conscious material called the persona, after the masks worn by ancient actors to signify the roles that they played.The persona helps us to deal with other people by indicating what may be expected from them. The doctor’s professional role is validated in the patient’s eyes by an appropriately reassuring manner, whereas the college professor is supposed to display a persona of expertise. If the doctor or professor violates these expectations by acting anxious and uncertain, this will provoke suspicion and resistance. In general, people with underdeveloped personas appear to be incompetent, boring, tactless, eternally misunderstood, and blind to the realities of the world. (See Jung, 1928/1972e, pp. 198–199; Jung, cited by Evans, 1976, p. 79.)
The persona may instead become overdeveloped and intrude on the ego. For example, a mediocre doctor with false visions of greatness may present a pompous persona of excellence. In such instances, the ego misguidedly identifi es with the persona and becomes infl ated with a sense of excess importance:
L’état c’est moi is the motto for such people. … In vain would one look for a personality behind the husk.
Underneath all the padding one would fi nd a very pitiable little creature. That is why the offi ce—or what- ever this outer husk may be—is so attractive: it offers easy compensation for personal defi ciencies. (Jung, 1928/1972e, pp. 143, 145; see also p. 156 n. 1.)
As would be expected from the principle of opposites, this conscious arrogance is compensated for by unconscious feelings of inferiority that cannot fi nd satisfactory expression. The confl ict between
these extreme aspects of personality wastes libido that could better be used in the pursuit of healthy activities.